Lethal

His lazy train of thought suddenly derailed.

He pushed her off him and leaped from the bed. “Honor, wake up!”

Startled out of her deep sleep, she came up on her elbows and shaded her eyes against the glare when he turned on the ceiling light. “What’s the matter? Is someone here?”

“No. Turn over.”

“What?”

“Get on your stomach.” He planted his knee beside her on the bed and flipped her facedown.

“Coburn!”

“You said ‘persuaded.’ ”

“What? Let me up.”

He placed his wide hand over her bottom and held her down. “Your tattoo. You said you got tipsy and were easily persuaded. Persuaded to get tattooed?”

“Yes. I didn’t take to the idea at first, but Eddie-”

“Insisted?”

“Eddie never insisted I do anything.”

“Okay, he persisted.”

“Sort of. He double-dog dared me. I finally gave in.”

Coburn was on his knees beside her, examining the intricate design. “And he chose the spot.”

“He said it was sexy.”

“It is. Sexy as all get out. But I don’t think that’s why he wanted it here.” Coburn squinted down at the swirling pattern while tracing it with his fingertip. “What does it say?”

“It doesn’t say anything.” She was watching him from over her shoulder. “I told you, it’s a Chinese symbol of some kind.”

“It’s gotta mean something or else why’d you choose it?”

“I didn’t. Eddie did. In fact he-”

Coburn’s head came up.

Her eyes connected with his. “He designed it.”

They stared at one another for several seconds, then Coburn said, “We just found the treasure map.”

For the umpteenth time Tori considered her empty cell phone. And for the umpteenth time she was sorely tempted to replace the battery and call Bonnell. She longed to talk to him. So what if he wasn’t extraordinarily handsome and well built? He wasn’t an ogre. She liked him. She knew his adoration for her was genuine and might have advanced from infatuation into-dare she think it?-full-blown love. He would be concerned over her sudden departure, wondering why she’d taken off to parts unknown without an explanation, why she wasn’t answering the calls he was surely placing.

If he’d put two and two together, he would have figured out that her leaving town was connected to the friend she’d told him about, the one who’d been kidnapped. Maybe he had late-breaking news regarding Honor and the search for her and Emily.

After sending the one short text to Bonnell informing him that she was leaving town, she had heeded Coburn’s instructions to the letter, even though she’d questioned the necessity of taking such precautions. A half hour after arriving at the house, she and Emily were making mud pies on a playground near the lakeshore. She’d been enjoying herself so much that it was easy to forget for short periods of time why the two of them were on this excursion.

But whenever she was reminded of the grim circumstances, she experienced a pang of longing for Bonnell’s solid presence. She also felt a touch of resentment for Coburn and his strict orders. Tori had an innate aversion to rules and had spent most of her life defying them.

Her resentment had mounted with each passing hour, until now, lying alone in bed and wishing for Bonnell’s raunchy company, she decided that no harm could come from one short conversation just to assure him that she was all right, as horny as ever, and desperately missing him.

She sat up and was about to reach for her phone on the nightstand. Instead she screamed.

A man wearing a ski mask was standing at the foot of her bed.

He lunged and clamped his gloved hand over her mouth, trapping her scream. She fought him like a swamp panther, shaking his hand off her face, then baring teeth and nails as she went on the offensive. Her incredibly muscled and toned body wasn’t just for show. She was as strong as most men and had the reflexes to utilize that strength effectively. Her attacker narrowly escaped a heel aimed at his testicles with the impetus of a pile driver.

She tried to yank the ski mask off his face, but he got his fingers around her wrist and jerked it so hard she heard bones snap. In spite of herself, she screamed in pain.

Then he knocked her in the temple with his pistol grip. Darkness descended like a velvet blanket. Her last thought was of Emily and Honor and how miserably she had failed them.

Doral whipped off his mask and bent over Tori’s sprawled form, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath and sniff back the blood dripping from his nose. The bitch had landed at least one good punch.

He would show her the stuff he was made of. He would show her that he wasn’t the kind of man who’d take crap like that from a woman. He still owed her for that time in high school when she had not only turned him down, but had done so laughing at his fumbling attempts to seduce her.

The thought of finally teaching her a lesson delighted him and got him hard. He reached for the fly of his pants.

However, even as he grappled with his zipper, he stopped and reconsidered. The Bookkeeper wouldn’t like it. Not because of scruples, but because of the timing.